


Never Been Happier

by JustAGirl24



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, I’m not dead, Mild Smut, My First Canon (sorta), Schmoop, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:34:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27379552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAGirl24/pseuds/JustAGirl24
Summary: Jaime had learned long ago the best way to bring a quarrel to a close was to coax Brienne to the training grounds, put a tourney sword in her hand, and do his best to keep any fresh bruises on his body to a minimum.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 35
Kudos: 149





	Never Been Happier

It happened, occasionally. No matter how good his intentions, sometimes Jaime forgot his wife's tender heart, how easily he could wound her with his words, and something uncharitable— _completely imbecilic,_ Brienne had told him many times in her calmer moments—would fall from his lips. It happened less and less in the two years since the war ended, when Jaime had dragged Brienne to the nearest septon before they made their way back to Tarth to see what remained. But sometimes he was still careless with his tongue, and hurt would fill his wife's astonishingly blue eyes, and she would leave in a hurry, refusing to speak to him for hours.

Before he'd learned the best way to soften her to his apologies, there was a particularly memorable time she’d avoided him for almost three full days.

But learn he had, and he’d learned long ago the best way to bring a quarrel to a close was to coax her to the training grounds, put a tourney sword in her hand, and do his best to keep any fresh bruises on his body to a minimum. And only when she'd knocked him into the dirt, both of them panting and covered with sweat, would she listen to his profuse— _barely adequate,_ Brienne would say—apologies before the two would go to the bath house and Jaime would remind her that his mouth wasn't so bad after all.

But today, Brienne wasn't speaking to him… and for the life of Jaime, he couldn't figure out _why_.

He'd wracked his brain since the evening prior, when she'd suddenly been cold with him at supper, and feigning sleep by the time Jaime had gone to their rooms—wearing a _nightgown_ of all things, something she'd been coaxed into blushingly giving up mere weeks into their marriage.

It had only continued this morning, when Jaime awoke to find her side of the bed cold, and Brienne missing from the great hall when he'd gone to break his fast.

In fact, it was now midday, and he'd been roaming the grounds unable to find her. That is, until he spied her straw blond hair and broad back on the other side of the courtyard.

“Wench!” Jaime shouted, his voice carrying across the courtyard. Brienne stiffened, noticeable even from the distance between them. He could just make out the red creeping up the back of her neck before she stalked down a shaded corridor in the opposite direction, never even glancing his way.

He ran after Brienne, darting around a stable boy, nearly colliding with one of the maids, before finally reaching his wife. He curled his fingers around her wrist, refusing to let go even when she turned to glare at him, her face an angry red.

“Brienne,” he purred, watching her color deepen as he bit into a smile. She tried to tug her arm away, though he could tell it was half-hearted at best.

“Come dance with me, sweetling.” Jaime grinned as Brienne’s eyes turned to slits at the loathed endearment, her jaw clenching. Finally, she gave a jerky nod, shaking free of his grip and stomping towards the training yard. Jaime followed, mentally running through various scenarios, wondering if Brienne would be brutal and efficient, or draw out his struggle.

In mere minutes they were at the training yard. Brienne picked up two of the blunted swords they used for sparring, shoving one into Jaime's left hand. He barely had time to tighten his grip before he heard Brienne bellow, “Begin!” With two brutal, graceless blows, Jaime was unarmed, a third knocking him ass over elbows, and he was left gasping for breath. The tip of Brienne's sword hovered over his throat for a long moment before it dropped in the dirt beside him. _Brutal and efficient, then,_ Jaime thought. 

He peered up at his wife, her face difficult to see due to the sun shining bright behind her, but she was breathing heavily, sweat just dampening the edges of her short hair. Jaime leaned up on his elbows, grinning at Brienne, hoping she'd drag him to the bathhouse now.

He wasn't disappointed, Brienne hauling him to his feet and keeping a firm grip on his arm as she strode to the bathhouse with Jaime in tow. He blinked as they entered the dim, steamy room, eyes adjusting as Brienne barred the door behind them. Anticipation coursed through Jaime as he waited, waited, before she stepped closer, a small noise escaping his throat as her plush lips met his.

Then it was a flurry of hands and mouths, clothes strewn on the floor as they tumbled into the bath. Jaime quickly found himself manhandled to the nearest bench, a moan tearing out of his throat at the dual sensations of warm water lapping against his skin and Brienne’s large, exquisitely calloused hand wrapped around his cock. She stroked once, twice, before Jaime pulled her knee over his hip, urging her to sit astride his lap. A moment later he was inside her, cock sheathed where she was warm and slick. He loved Brienne like this, towering over him, lean and powerful. He felt her shuddering breath against his neck as her hips rocked against him, his stump wrapped around her lower back to hold her in place, her nipples hard points against his chest, and he brought his hand around the back of her neck to pull her mouth down to his.

Brienne kissed him fiercely, her teeth sinking into his lower lip and drawing a gasp from him, his hips thrusting up to meet hers. She was tight around him, close if the noises escaping her were any indication, and Jaime was right behind her. He dropped his hand to where they were joined, fingers curving over the smooth skin of her thigh as his thumb found her nub, circling and stroking. Within moments Brienne was shuddering above him, back arching as she held his shoulders in a bruising grip, Jaime following with a growl as he pulsed within her.

Blissful, Jaime wrapped his arms around Brienne’s back, listening to their panting breaths slow in the otherwise silent bathhouse, his cock softening and slipping from the warmth of her body. He held his tongue until Brienne shifted back, astonishing eyes meeting his own for a brief moment before darting away to a point over his shoulder.

“How did I cock it up this time, wife?” Jaime asked with a half-smile, letting his fingers brush against her hip.

“Y-you...didn’t,” Brienne muttered, shifting off his lap and moving to sit across from him in the bath. Jaime waited with a patience he didn’t feel. “I saw the maester yesterday.” 

Jaime stood abruptly, water streaming off him as dread filled him. “Brienne, are you ill?” he asked, panic welling in his chest. He thought back over the last month, wondering if he’d missed any signs of illness but coming up blank. Brienne shook her head furiously, chewing her bottom lip, and Jaime sat back down, relieved but confused.

“There is to be a...a...b-babe,” she finally stuttered out, drawing her knees up to her chest.

Jaime stared at his wife, steam from the hot water rising thick in the short distance between them. She stared back, nervously chewing on her bottom lip, radiating nerves.

Before he knew what he was doing, he’d pulled Brienne into his lap once more, pressing his lips to all the places he could reach between bursts of laughter—her neck, her shoulders, the upper swell of her breasts—before threading his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck to pull her lips to his for a bruising kiss.

“A babe!” Jaime gasped when he finally pulled away, trailing his fingers tenderly over her still-flat stomach. Dreams of watching Brienne grow heavy with new life, a child calling him father... 

“You’re happy?” she asked, foolish wench that she was, then stuttered, “I wasn’t sure—that is—I...” 

Jaime’s eyes met Brienne’s once more as she trailed off, taking in the hesitant smile on her face. “Brienne,” he breathed, near speechless with emotion. She’d saved his life, shared her home, given her love freely. And now _this_. A smile threatened to split his face, Brienne‘s growing to meet his own. “Brienne, love, I’ve never been happier.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is nowhere near my best work, and all I can tell you is that I’ve picked at this story off and on for about three years. But I hope you enjoyed it. 😊


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